


Like a Street Riot

by baker_and_fangirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Carver and Leandra are mentioned but not seen, F/M, Hawke may be dependent on dragon blood, Swearing, The Inquisitor is a revear warrior, my Hawke and Dragon obsession continues, sad feelings at times, standard canon death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baker_and_fangirl/pseuds/baker_and_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke may or may not be using dragon blood (she totally is) to boost her abilities and Varric worries about her and how she handles things. He just wants her to be okay but she insists on taking all of the burden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Street Riot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calysto1395](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calysto1395/gifts).



> calysto1395, I hope you like this. You sorta threw up all over the prompt but I tried to make something good. I focused on the dragon's blood thing and how using it if you didn't go through the proper training could have some side effects. Again, I hope you like it and let me know if I was close.

The first time had been an accident. As in, she had accidently gotten the blood in her mouth.  
It was coppery like her own but it tingled and sparked as it slid down her throat. It felt like lightening on her fingers and heat pooled in her stomach. Her vision narrowed and sharpened in on the dragon as Isabela dove out of the way and Varric shot Bianca and pierced the soft underbelly.

Perfect.

She felt the crackle of lightening and waited for Aveline to retreat from the dragon before directing the bolt through her fingers and connecting to the arrow Bianca had left in its stomach. The dragon’s limbs seized and lightening seemed to crackle on it hide and it collapsed into a twitching pile. Hawke was unbothered by the blood still lingering over her face as she moved to pull Isabela up. She caught Varric’s eye and she smiled in what she hoped was reassuring.  
The sight of blood on Marian was nothing new. She always seemed to be covered in something gross but there was something about the look of blood dripping down her face and caking in her hair, the way she grinned in that slightly terrifying way she did and the way her eyes shown made Varric nervous. He reached into the dragon’s stomach and pulled out the blackened arrow. “Huh. Interesting trick Chuckles.” He glanced up at her blood splattered face, her dilated eyes and reached in his bag and pulled out his handkerchief. “Wipe your face or those pissy templers will scream blood magic.”

Hawke took the lacy square thing and rubbed it over her face roughly, and blowing her nose into it loudly. She still tasted copper in her mouth as she tucked the now less pretty square into her waistband. It wouldn’t be like Varric would want it back. “We should go.”

 

There was always something about dragons that Marian had always loved. She remembered late nights with Father, as he magicked light shows for Carver and Bethany to help them sleep, Mother resting in the other room. He would just sit her in his lap and tell her stories of mighty warriors, Grey Wardens, and dragons. So many dragons. A thousand colors, breathing fire, and so powerful.  
She wanted to be that powerful and that strong.

She wanted to be a dragon.

A dragon could destroy anyone, everyone and no one could tell them what to do or make them feel bad about themselves. They didn’t have their mothers nagging at them or yelling at them or have to do everything when their fathers hid from templers or take care of their tiny dragon siblings cause mother couldn’t handle them. They didn’t have to do anything.  
They weren’t afraid of the templers or the sisters in town or the demons in their dreams.  
They were the strongest of the strong and she wanted that more than anything.

 

Varric dumped the clear bottles on the table in front of Hawke.

She glanced up at him to the bottles. They were the type that potions or lyruim was stored in. The kind you could attach at your waist.

“If you are going to keep doing that shit with the dragons keep it in the clear ones. You’re lucky I love you so much, the coin I’m shelling out.” Varric grumbled sitting with a thud next to Hawke and swiping her drink. He made a face as he took drink. “Why the fuck do you keep drinking this well shit?”

“It builds character darling. Puts hair on your chest,” she glanced down “not that you need help with that.” She ignored the love part because it went without saying that he loved her.

“My eyes are up here you perv. We are getting you a real drink.” He got down, offering his hand to her. Hawke smiled and gave him that smile her mother made her practice, the nobility smile.

“Lead the way.” The little odd and ends clinked in her bag along with coins as she made her way through the crowd with Varric.

Isabela rolled her eyes and made a gagging noise with Merril grinned sweetly. Aveline rolled her eyes and started shuffling the cards. “It’s almost like watching a street riot.” She remarked. “Chaotic and often destructive but stable and it never really dies.” Aveline knew love between friends and the look of lovers. Varric and Hawke were as close as lovers and almost moved as one person but they caused a lot of headache for authority figures like her bosses.

“Carver still hasn’t shown his face around here.” Anders glanced around. It was unusual for the younger Hawke to not be about even if he was just sulking for the most part. Since he had joined the templers it was still hard to shake the feeling he should be here, striking out at the bar.

Aveline shrugged and started dealing the cards. They played a five person hand as Hawke and Varric laughed and talked at the bar and later retreated to his rooms where he worked on a manuscript about a daring young mage looking for freedom and having sex with everyone while Hawke carefully poured blue, yellow, green, and violet dragons blood into dozens of glass flasks.

 

Hawke rolled quickly as the Arishok charged into a nearby wall. She was starting to get pissed. This fight was going on far too long and there wasn’t a damn soldier or templer in sight. Stupid fuckers. She grabbed the bright blue flask and pulled the cork off with her teeth. She let the dragon’s blood make its way down her throat. They each had a different feel, or smell, or taste. Red tasted like copper and electricity. Green smelled like cut turf, purple like the ocean. Blue smelled like rotting fruit that used to sit in the mulch in Lothering. Slightly too sweet and earthy.

Her sight became focused as she focused on the Arishok. She had already killed the man who murdered her mother but the rage was still there. She held her favorite personal knife, a gift from Carver when they had been on speaking terms. She didn’t need them but she wanted to use it.

She hit him with an engulfing spell and launched herself at him, aiming the kill shot at the base of his neck. He went still and she pulled the knife out and stabbed him again, blood singing in her ears and her eyes focused on her enemy. She stabbed him again and again until Varric placed his hand on her arm. “Hey Killer. I think he’s dead so let up already.”

Her eyes cleared and she took in what was left of the Arishok’s face and neck. She allowed Varric to lead her away, past the cheering nobles had suddenly appeared and past Meredith, Cullen, and Carver and down to Low Town to celebrate properly: getting so drunk they all blacked out and tried to forget certain things about the day. Aveline wanted a decent sleep before she started clean up while Isabela celebrated her near escape and the fact that she had feelings that compelled her to come back for Hawke. Anders tried not to think about how Hawke had sat silently while he healed her. Merrill nursed her drink and thought of the state of the alienage and Fenris wondered what would happen next from here. Hawke drank to forget everything that had happened in the past week and Varric drank hoping to forget the look of frenzied glee on her face a she was in the thick of battle.

 

The fight was over for now.

Varric wondered how he had never noticed how fucked up Kirkwall was before all this. Also, surprisingly flammable for a place by the ocean and made of stone. He hobbled, mostly supporting Hawke at this point. She had downed her array of dragon’s blood to keep her going that whole night. Dealing with Anders, Orsino, and Meredith. Trying to pull as many citizens out of the rubble and get those who could be saved to someplace that wasn’t on fire or sinking into the sea.

The Hang Man was intact and they made their way up the steps. “You have to stop with the dragons blood Hawke.”

She didn’t respond.

“You aren’t yourself when you use it and look at how burnt out you are, I can’t prove that it I connected but it probably is so stop using it already because almost watching you die is making my hair go grey.” He kicked the door and jerked her to the bed. “Take off your bloody clothes and change into something else. You need sleep.” He turned to the desk to give the illusion of privacy

“How could he do that. All those people.” Her voice was whisper quiet and she let out a little hiccup. Varric let out a heavy sigh and sunk on the bed next to her. He motioned for her to lay her head on his shoulder and let her cry. Tonight he would guard while she grieved and tomorrow morning they would pull on their clothes and get to work. Grief was not a luxury they had right now, not a luxury Hawke had ever had, but he could make sure she could grieve tonight.

 

“So, the Inquisitor can use dragon blood but I can’t.” Hawke commented in Varric’s room late one night as they played cards.

“The Herald of Andraste can do whatever the fuck they want. Your turn Chuckles.”

She scowled at him. “That’s Mrs. Chuckles to you. And it’s still not fair.” She lazily laid out a card before drawing and swearing.

“I’m not as personally invested in the Inquisitor flipping their shit in a murder happy frenzy.” Varric looked down at the table before reorganizing his hand. “Besides we have an expert or something around here on how warriors can use it. They will get properly trained instead of just trying to follow their childhood dream of being a dragon. And I win by the way.”

Hawke glared and tossed the cards into the air. “Fuck you Varric, you always win at this game! You didn’t even cheat this time!”

He smirked a little. “Not that you saw. And that’s Mr. Chuckles to you darling.”

Hawke’s eyes sparked with mirth. “Did you tell Cassandra that we were married?”

“Are you kidding me? She would have been bothering me even more about you if she knew. I’d never have a moment’s peace. Then how would I have written you any letters or written any books. But she is happy I have a new book coming out.”

Hawke’s smile turned into something warmer. “You mean the one about the dashing and heroic mage and her trusty dwarf?”

“Yeah. That one.” He scooted over and made room for Hawke to half sit half perch on the chair with him. She tucked herself in next to him and she breathed deeply, relaxing for the first time.

“It’s my favorite too. The declaration of love in the middle of the riot as they rescue the city is a favorite but I must admit,” she kissed her bridge of his nose, pulling his hair free from the elastic tie. “I’m a huge fan of the bedroom scenes.”


End file.
